Dear Edward Scissorhands,
Let’s get married. I would make a wonderful Mrs. Scissorhands for a multitude of reasons.
Firstly, I think your facial scars are cool. They make you look kind of, you know, dangerous. Like the way your scissorhands make you look kind of dangerous. Dangerous!
Secondly, I hate doing yardwork and you seem to enjoy trimming hedges and the like, so you could do the yardwork and I could not, and we could be cute together when the neighbors come over for a barbecue.
Thirdly, I would never make you cut my hair. Unless you wanted to. But don’t do anything crazy with it, because I really hate styling my hair.
Fourthly, I have never dated the rich, popular jock, so I would never ask you to break into his house, thus setting off a chain of events that will end in tragedy.
Fifthly, even if I did set off a chain of events that end in tragedy, I would do it with more panache than Winona Ryder, because I seriously could never understand her popularity, she’s pretty terrible.
Sixthly, I think the last name Scissorhands really suits me, and if you won’t marry me, perhaps I should consider getting my name legally changed. Except I can’t remember how to make a cursive capital S, so maybe that’s a bad idea.
But still, we should get married.